


Expectations

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Lingerie, Minor Violence, Yandere, blood mention, trophy wife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 18:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11903835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: Hanzo put a lot of effort into making sure that you were happy and cared for. He expected the same in turn.





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> A small request piece <3
> 
> We do more stuff like this over @overwatching-you-sleep.tumblr.com

"Open it."

You stare blankly at the box in your lap. It's elaborate, intricate knots in the ribbon with a large, loopy bow sitting on top. The wrapping paper may as well have been gold foil from how it glittered. Yet still, you were unimpressed. You had far surpassed impressed by this point in your relationship. 

Yet still, for Hanzo's sake, you try to manage a smile when you pull the wrapping paper apart. Beneath it lies a pink box, a few french words you couldn't decipher written across in elegant cursive. Your stomach was already starting to turn with anticipation, but you pushed forward and removed the top.

"Oh.” You tried to find it in your heart to mimic surprise at the lingerie, but even your noise of shock came out lackluster. A bra and panty set matched with a lacy babydoll meant to cover it all up. At least, you would think so, if not for the nearly transparent lace leaving nothing to the imagination.

“What do you think?” You blink, remembering that Hanzo was watching you for a reaction. You smiled at him and ran the fabric between your fingers to feel its texture.

“It’s...beautiful." The lingerie was indeed beautiful, a tasteful mix of red and black to slim your figure and give it a passionate edge, It was designed to cover little and truly hide even less. Your lips were getting dry. "This one is more...showy than the rest."

"It's perfect for you," Hanzo insisted, his eyes telling of all his internal delight. "Something to fit your personality."

"Always putting on a show for you?" You tried not to let any venom creep into your voice, and your efforts paid off. Hanzo took it as a playful jab rather than the biting comment it truly was, shrugging it off with a soft chuckle.

"That's right," he said. You pulled the garments out of the box, laying the wrapping and box down on the floor and holding the set in front of you. The babydoll was almost entirely see-through, doing nothing to hide your stomach or thighs like it's shape suggested. 

The bra and panties that came with it were generous, but just as provocative, letting what's left to the imagination be done up in little embroidered hearts along the edges. Just when you thought you couldn't stand to look at the thing anymore, the words you'd been dreading to hear came out.

"Try it on."

You shut your eyes, hiding your reaction behind the clothing. It felt like you were evaporating into thin air, light and scattering into a million pieces. Unable to hesitate for much longer, you sucked air through your nose and laid the lingerie on the bed beside you. 

“Let the show begin,” you thought. You pulled your shirt off and let it dangle from your fingers. Hanzo got upset if you left it on the floor, but you weren’t looking to speed the process up any. So, you waited patiently for Hanzo to take the shirt from your hand before you moved to undress any further.

To him, your shyness was a provocative tease. Something to leave him wanting more. He enjoyed that you weren’t eager, that you made him wait and sometimes even chase. It was what made you so much more valuable than anyone else he could have had. Why he had picked you to marry.

Even when you stood bare to the room, Hanzo made no verbal comment. He was patient. Waiting for you to complete his request. The fabric of the underwear felt thin when you slid it over your legs, pulling it to fit snugly around your crotch. Immodest compared to everything else you owned. You might as well have been bare.

The bra came next, pushing your breasts together and making them look much fuller than they were. Some adjusting of the straps and cups left you with a decent cleavage that would just barely peek over the top of the lacy cover. 

Once you had the full set on, you turned to look in the mirror. The image that stared back at you in the mirror didn't look quite like you. You had never been keen on such fanciful lingerie, sticking to the simplicity of cotton underwear and a single pair of black silk for special nights. It complimented your body in a way that you detested, something you struggled not to show on your face.

"What do you think?" He's approaching you from behind, his face appearing over your left shoulder. Such an innocent-seeming smile. You looked over your form again, everything that was hardly hidden beneath the translucent lace. It was a good look. You just hated that it was for him.

"I look great." It was about as honest as you could safely get. Hanzo's smile got just a bit wider--approval, then--and his hands came to rest on your shoulders.

"You always do." The flattery feels empty to you, but you smile at it anyways. He's massaging your shoulders, fingers gently working out the tension in your muscles, and there was a lot of it. "I would not have chosen you as my partner if you were anything less than perfect."

He said that often, and it stung the deepest hole in your heart. You weren't perfect, you hated that you were a stalker's idea of perfect, and while your life in his home certainly hadn't been the worst it could have been...it was nothing like what you wanted out of your life. You hadn't contacted your family in months. Your smile remains on your face, but it gets much tighter. "I know, Hanzo."

"Good." His lips ghost over your ear, tongue sliding down the shell until he took the lobe beneath his teeth and gently nibbled. His hands slid beneath your arms and circled your breasts, pushing them even closer together. There was something inherently worse about watching this done in the mirror, able to see the look of bliss on his face the more of you he felt. You hoped the color of your face matched flustered more than indignant.

"Can we please take this to the bed?" you asked, a genuinely surprising request coming from your own mouth. He must have thought so to, because his eyes met yours in the mirror wide and in shock. He recovered quicker than you thought, eyelids fluttering down and his lips returning to your ear.

"In a rush?" he questioned, breath hot on your skin, making the tip of your ears flush with red. You pressed your lips together.

“I’d just like to relax with you,” you said. He ignored your request, his hands instead moving to pull the babydoll up and expose your stomach. The thing had only been on you for mere minutes before he wanted to take it off again.

"Just look at yourself," he told you, as if showing off one of his most prized possessions. In a way, you were his most prized possession of all. Your body was pale from lack of sun and pristine from lack of conflict in the outside world. He kept you looking like a princess. "You're beautiful."

"Yes," you agreed, because it was easiest, but you were struggling not to pull the lacy cover back over your torso. He moved to pull it over your head, and you reluctantly moved your arms to comply, letting him take it off.

"I want you to see the faces you make," he said. The smile on his face was one of his more genuine, and the implications of that terrified you. "If you see what I see, maybe it will help you understand just a bit more."

"I do understand," you told him, but he looked unconvinced. His hands fell to your hips, massaging your upper thighs and pushing your hips to sway back and forth. It almost looked like you were dancing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what heaven looks like?” he whispers, as though the very concept awed him to talk about. The man worshipped you, in a way. His ideas of love were so strange to you, but love it was. The way he holds you is so gentle. A lover's caress that left you feeling neither warm nor loved.

"I suppose," you relented. You caught a glimpse of his face behind your head and saw his smile, too wide for comfort. His left hand slid around your front and down your panties, making you jump. His hold kept you steady, and his hand slid over your mound without protest.

Once his middle finger found your clit, you felt yourself begin to unravel. His touch was always skilled, able to undo you in minutes, but seeing this process and feeling it were two eerily different experiences that you didn't wish to have happen to you at the same time. Your eyes wanted to shut, but even that small of an action might jeopardize your life.

Nevertheless, it wasn't pleasant. You tried to relax in his touch, let him toy with you until you cum on his hand like you had done so many times before, but the sight of your own face in response to your situation was unbearable. Your eyes fell to his hand, where your new panties hid his quick motions. You pressed your thighs together to alleviate some of the friction and he tugged your hips back against him with a quick jerk.

“What is it?” Hanzo asked. You looked up, and he was staring over your shoulder, his eyes boring into yours. You forced a smile to your lips.

“I’m not...feeling up to such a shameless display,” you managed, wringing your hands nervously. “This is all so much, Hanzo…”

“You’re not making your expressions.” This statement made you freeze, combined with his tightened hold on your hip. “The heavenly faces that come forth when I pleasure you...you’re troubled, instead. Why?”

You were stuck. No answer came to your head, and the longer you stuttered and searched for one, the more intense his expression became, eyebrows knitting together in slow-bubbling anger.

“What is it?” he asked again, hand jerking out of your panties in near disgust. You could sense his patience running out, you struggled for a believable answer, but none came before he scoffed and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?” he asked, throwing you off heavily. You tried to turn and face him, but his grip was relentless.

“No, Hanzo, you’re the perfect husband,” you told him, as you had so many times before. Unlike those times, this did nothing to soothe him. In fact, it only seemed to drive him further into his rage.

“Then why are you ashamed to see yourself with me?!” he demanded. Again you were speechless, and that tore the fabric of restraint that had held him back. With his fingers in your hair, he shoved you face-first onto the vanity, your nose flattening with a crunch that swirled a pool of nausea in your gut. Your ears were ringing, harshened by the various crashes of make-up containers and perfume bottles rattled off the edges by the force. 

“Look at yourself,” he commanded, voice a harsh hiss compared to what it was just moments before. You felt his fingers in your hair pull back, forcing you to look up into the mirror. You saw your face there, terrified. Disoriented. Your eyes hardly able to stay in focus while a brilliant red stream of blood fell over your lips and dripped off your chin. Behind you, Hanzo stood like a menacing force.

It wasn't a pretty picture.

He pulled your panties down your legs in one forceful tug, fingers pushing inside of you and stretching you open. You bit your lip and looked down, but another tug of your hair kept you making eye contact with yourself.

“So ungrateful,” he spits, spreading you apart with his index and middle fingers. “Don’t you love me?”

“I do!” you cry, wishing the pain stemming from every inch of your scalp would stop, but he was relentless.

“Then show me,” he growls, pulling his fingers out of you abruptly, “how happy you are to be my wife.”


End file.
